


Space Heats are the Worst

by Catzgirl



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, i feel like i have to specify that for abo fics, idk what else to tell you guys, there's no tentacles?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-07 23:01:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13445244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catzgirl/pseuds/Catzgirl
Summary: 3 times Lance went into heat alone + 1 that Shiro spends with him





	1. In Which Lance Finds Out that Space Heats Fucking Suck

**Author's Note:**

> Other Paladins mentioned, but no other relationships implied.  
> I haven't seen enough of a caring, nurturing Alpha!Shiro with a strong, scrappy Omega!Lance, so I wrote it my gotdamn self.  
> I guess I should also mention that I headcanon that each season lasts for about a year, and Lance is scheduling to have one heat per year, so this entire fic is spanning about 4 years. I'm not tagging for it because it's kind of irrelevant, but I guess that means we've got Aged Up Paladins?

The first time that Lance goes into heat in space goes without a hitch.

They're able to plan for it and ease him off suppressants and get the _necessary materials_ from the space mall for him to coax himself through a heat alone (who knew that the space mall would have such a wide variety of authentic earth _personal_ _massagers_?) He explains to the team that he's got a birth control implant that'll last him another three years, and Pidge and Coran are sure they can replicate a new one by then just as they have with his suppressants, but with Keith and Shiro the only Alphas on board that's not much of an issue.

The heat lasted a solid 10 days, with an additional 3 pre-heat days that had everyone tip-toeing around their nesting and needy Omega. It was expected, having been launched into a space war and into a new pack and the never-ending stress of being Paladins. Hunk brought him food and cared for him and Allura piloted Blue in his absence and Shiro and Keith went on a diplomatic mission with Coran to seal more alliances for the Voltron Coalition. Keith was something of a muddy Alpha- more inclined to reclusiveness and Beta pack habits than the control and domination instincts most Alphas struggled with. But for Shiro, protecting and caring and leading was what he was built for, strove for. Sometimes, protecting their resident Omega meant removing himself from the situation, lest he get thrown into a sudden rut.

Once he and Keith and Coran had returned, Lance was well out of his heat and everything had gone back to normal. 

The second time Lance goes into heat, everything goes to shit.

* * *

 

 

He wakes up in a sweat that- for once- has not been brought on by nightmares. He's shirtless, in nothing but sweatpants, but he doesn't have time for additional clothes as he feels something pulling him from his bed. There's something in his gut that says _follow follow follow me_ and his head is foggy, his vision still blurred with sleep, and the voice in his gut promises that if he goes he'll like what he finds, so he does.

When his door actually slides open and the cool air of the hall hits him, a second voice pipes up. _No_ , it says, _go back to bed_. He wonders why he would ever want to do that, and the voice helplessly stutters but gives no reasons. _Something is wrong_ , it insists, but it isn't sure what.

Shiro sets it aside, gives in to his instincts, and walks.

He's near-silent without shoes or armor, so there's nothing but the steady hum of the Castle of Lions to keep him company. He isn't sure where he's going, what wing of the Castle he's in, he just lets his body find its own way. It can't be more than few minutes of walking, though, until his ears prick on something else. Something faint, something muffled? Something pleading and desperate.

 _Hurry_ , his gut tells him, _go go go go. There's trouble, go now_

Totally at odds with the other voice, fainter now, drowned out, that's begging him to go back to his room. Begging him to leave it for the morning, leave it for one of the others. But Shiro is the leader, Shiro is the Black Paladin, Shiro is the Alpha. He picks up his pace.

It takes him no time at all to find the source. There's a door between him and his point of destination: the noise is louder on the other side. Louder, but it's become reedier during Shiro's journey here, more a whine than words. The tone is still desperate, still pleading. Someone is in trouble. He's the pack leader, it's his job to keep them safe.

The door slides open, and it hits him like a sledge hammer.

The objective part of Shiro's brain, the analytical bit, the side of him that got him through the gladiator pits, knows exactly what he's walked into and starts to categorize it. This is Lance's room. That's Lance's bed. That's Lance's nest. That's Lance's hand. Those are Lance's finger, stretching his own ass. Those are Lance's toys, scattered on the bed, vying to fill and fuck him. That's Lance's voice, gasping and whining and moaning, biting into a pillow he's taken from Shiro's own bed, trying to muffle himself and failing. " _Shiro_ ," he whines, eyes screwed shut, back to the door and completely unaware that he's somehow- through the scent blockers and the distance and through a dead sleep- managed to summon the object of his fantasies. His head tips back and the whine that loosens from his throat is louder without the obstruction of the pillow, and the pose lends better reach to his hand so that he can press deeper inside himself.

Lance has started his heat. His pre-heat nesting had started just hours ago at dinner, Shiro and Keith were to leave in the morning to observe the Blade of Marmora and make a new Paladin combat training regimen. Busy work so that the Alpha wouldn't be at home. So that _he_ wouldn't be _here_.

 _I told you so_ both voices whisper, one pleased and one panicked.

He's an Alpha, and that means protecting and caring and leading. Sometimes, it means removing himself from the picture.

His feet are glued to the floor. The door whispers shut behind him- if he moves, he knows, he won't be able to take it back. If he moves, the spell will be broken. So he doesn't move and he barely breathes, but his eyes are wide open.

" _Please_ ," Lance gasps, undulating his hips, fucking himself on his own fingers, " _More_ ," he begs. Two of the toys clink together, the sheets rustled from Lance's rocking and grinding, and the noise seems to remind him of their existence. " _Oh_ ," he sighs, and withdraws his hand. They shimmer in the dim lighting, covered and dripping with the slick that's running down his thighs. He doesn't turn his head, doesn't open his eyes as he fumbles for the toys. His hand skirts over them twice before he chooses one. It's glass: bulbous head, orbs of varying size leading down to a ring that acts as a grip. Tinted with swirls of black and purple.

Shiro has to move. He has to do something. There's two voices in him and they're warring over his next action, screaming so loud that there's a ringing through his skull. He's never seen an Omega in heat. Alphas aren't meant to see such a thing unless they're in a mated pair or a heat-escort service. He'd never thought about heat-scent.

Well, that's a lie. He's thought about Lance's heat scent. In his darkest, most instinctual moments, in the safety of his own bedroom, he's wondered what Lance's heat would smell like. He'd assumed that it would be a stronger version of his regular scent, which is unusual and captivating enough. Most people would think that, being the Guardian of Water, Lance would smell like sea salt and sand, but that's not the case at all. Lance's scent is sweet mint- when he's sick or distressed it turns bitter, becomes antiseptic. When healthy, Lance's scent is so clean, so sharp, it's almost tangible in the air. Water tastes better when Lance is around, the tingle of him is a presence in everything they eat. Lance's scent is insistent, but unimposing.

But now, here, with his nose and his mouth and his sense clouded with it: Lance's heat scent smells like lightning. It's not the gentle pleasure of a fresh rain, it's the danger and the urgency of the storm. Lance's heat scent is thick and oppressive and demands to be dealt with- just like Lance's heat. And when the first bulb of Lance's toys disappears easily into his self-stretched ass, Shiro has to take a deep, steadying breath of air. Of scent.

That's all it takes for his own scent glands to open.

It's a pheromonal reaction: the Alpha in him calling to the Omega in Lance. His neck aches as his glands pump to fill the room, musk and metal and twilight. Lance's head snaps towards him, and his pupils blow when he realizes who's standing in his room. Shiro should move, Shiro should do something, but it's not until Lance's entire frame goes lax and putty, until a soft whimper crawls out his mouth, until he whispers _you came_ like it's a blessing and deliverance that Shiro can move his feet.

He steps back toward the door.

Lance rises to his knees with an alarmed cry, the toy falling to the bed sheets forgotten. "Help me," he says, arms reaching out towards Shiro, "Alpha. Help me." He blue eyes are fever-bright, his skin is sweat slicked, his brown curly hair is a wreck. Shiro's never seen anything more enticing.

"I have to go."

Lance whines again, urgent and pleading. His hands grasp nothing but air, as if he can levitate Shiro to him.

The door slides open when Shiro's shoulder blades hit it. The air from the hall is crisp and cool and blows Lance's scent back into his room; the scent blockers that Pidge and Hunk made tirelessly at work. It does nothing to clear Shiro's head.

"I have to go," he repeats, and Lance's cry goes sharp, goes distressed, and he almost gives in but, "Lance, we _can't_ ," he says. "I'll be right outside," he promises. The door shuts in his face.

Lance's yowl on the other side almost splits him in two.

His stomach heaves at the sound, and his gut rails against him, wills him to go back into the room and do- what needs to be done.

Instead he sits down, leans his forehead against the door, issues a series of chuffs- low, reassuring sounds. _I'm still here_ he tries to convey, _I'm not leaving. You're safe._ The wailing stops. Lance returns a high chattering. His Omega is confused, desperate. Shiro should be there, in Lance's bed, in Lance's nest.

Shiro doesn't often find himself at odds with his endotype, but his Alpha is riding him hard now. Every molecule in his body is vibrating, roaring at him.

But he's the Black Paladin and he protects his team. Sometimes from himself. So he stays in the hall, cuffing and murmuring nonsense until he can hear Lance's yowling and begging turn into moans, until he's gasping and screaming for entirely different reasons.

Shiro stays and listens and doesn't regret.

 

When Hunk approaches in the morning with food and towels, he's met by a sharp growl that trails into something almost apologetic. Shiro's still sitting on the floor, back to Lance's door and eyes boring into Hunk. Frankly, he looks a mess: wild hair and eyes bloodshot with lack of sleep. He shivers slightly and his bare chest and arms are covered in goosebumps. Hunk responds with his own growl- decidedly less apologetic.

"Did you-" he starts at the exact moment that Shiro slumps over and says to his knees, "Of course not."

Hunk still looks wary but says, "I mean, I don't think you would but-" and Shiro says, "Of course, no, it's fine," and neither of them can look at each other.

There's a long, awkward pause between them while they both try to figure out where they stand. Then Hunk says, "It started early?"

Shiro grumbles and shuffles to the side of the door, making a path, says, "Yeah. My Alpha pulled me out of bed to come check on him. I didn't even know what was happening until I opened the door and scented him. I'll-" and he has to grit his teeth to get the words out, "I'll go back to my room after your check on him."

Hunk just rolls his eyes. "Yeah, okay, we'll see about that," he retorts with clear doubt, and opens the room.

Shiro's entire body goes rigid. The effort it takes not to charge in is monumental as Lance's scent wafts into the hallway. The scent blockers nearby whirr quietly, dispersing the scent and covering it, but Shiro can see Lance's nest from his vantage point on the floor, can see the Omega's form curled up in it, he's known that Lance has been napping for the past hour or so and yet seeing him so vulnerable is cracking Shiro's resolve.

The door snaps shut and Shiro sucks in a breath as his muscles relax again.

He should leave now, objectively. His Alpha is satisfied that the Beta in Hunk isn't a threat to either Shiro himself or to Lance. And he logically knows that Hunk has been through more heats with Lance- they were roommates at the Garrison. Hunk knows what he's doing. Better than Shiro does, certainly. He should leave before the door opens again and he gets caught up in his instincts. He's got no claim on Lance besides what leading Voltron gives him. Shiro should leave and let him have his heat in peace and go do something productive.

But he doesn't. He'd told Lance that he'd be right outside, so that's where he stays. An Omega in heat is- vulnerable. If his pack leader breaks his promise, if he leaves and something even minor happens, it could send Lance into a frost. It would break his faith in his pack leader and destroy all the progress they've made as a team. It's a minute risk, but one not worth taking. He shuts his eyes and leans against the wall, letting it leech his warmth. He takes a few deep breaths. Then he shuffles closer to the door and presses his ear against it.

There's the little, domestic sounds he'd expected: spoon hitting bowl, shower running, Hunk's soothing voice and Lance's; too soft for Shiro to make out, a little hoarse from his theatrics last night, overblown to be sure that Shiro heard through the door, trying to entice him back in. Even when the noises fade towards the bathroom, Shiro stays pressed against the door, feeling ridiculous and also helpless to stop himself. When Hunk finally returns, he has only a moment to throw himself across the hall to the opposite wall.

The Yellow Paladin is not fooled. He crosses his arms and stares at Shiro as the door behind him shuts, blocking his view of Lance. Shiro waits to be told to leave, knowing that it's in his best interest even as his entire body tenses for a fight.

Hunk sighs, rolls his eyes, turns and goes back into the room. Returns with the comforter from Lance's bed in hand, and dumps it at Shiro's feet before backing away. "He wants you to have this," he says as Shiro reaches out to snatch the comforter, trying and failing to not bury his face in it and breath deep. "He took mine for his nest, so he doesn't need it. But he wanted you to have something of his."

Hunk turns and starts down the hallway, says over his shoulder, "I'll bring you some food in a minute."

And just like that, it's settled. As long as Lance is in heat, Shiro isn't going anywhere.

* * *

 

 

 The third time Lance goes into heat, Shiro has to go somewhere.

Specifically, he has to go to Black because the Castle is under attack by Galran forces. It was only a matter of time, really, they'd been lucky that nothing serious had happened the first two heats.

"I'll be _right back_ ," he says to Lance, who is pressed directly against the other side of the door, whining and chattering with anxiety. Shiro breathes deep from the bundle of sheets bunched in his fist- the top layer of a mini nest that Lance built for him outside his bedroom door- and tries to keep his worry from his voice. The Castle rocks from another blast, and he makes himself go stern with authority as he says, "Get into your nest and don't come out until I say so. Do you understand?"

At the first sound of demand in his voice, Lance starts moving, and Shiro has memorized the exact dimensions of the room so he knows for a fact that Lance is already in his bed when he calls to the door that's already locked, "I do. Be safe," and then a whimper rips out of him that Shiro can tell is completely involuntary and he chokes out, " _Please_."

There's no time to respond. He's already turning away, trying not to trip over his own pile of pillows and Lance's clothing, a responding series of chuffs rumbles out of his chest, and then he's off and sprinting down the hall toward his hangar.

The Black Lion is already lit up, rockets simmering with energy, mouth wide open to catch him. They have to do this as quickly as possible not only because, _seriously_ , fuck the Galra, but also because it is incredibly dangerous for an Omega to feel unsafe during a heat. As his pilot seat slides into place, Shiro is already growling and snarling at the thought of Lance's heat going sideways, souring into a frost, about the health and emotional ramifications that could come with it.

"Shiro, we're surrounded!" Pidge yells, Green zooming past with a cluster of ships on her tail as Black launches out of the hanger and through the Castle's ion shield.

He obliterates her pursuers with a few well-placed blasts, says, "I know. We need to form Voltron and get that battle cruiser out of here."

But for that, they need to do some preliminary clean up. As is, there's no way all five of them can get free and have enough time to form Voltron.

Allura swings Blue around Yellow, spurting a steady of stream of ice to cover Hunk as he readies his Lion's canon to blast into clusters of ships. She yells, "If we get farther from the Castle, we'll have more room to safely maneuver!"

It's a good point. Keith has already steered Red closer to the Galra cruiser, using the most agile of the Lions to bait the attacking ships into running into each other. If the entire team moved in, Shiro knows, they could get some good hits on the cruiser itself as well as potentially forcing the Galra to reconvene their formation, giving them time to form Voltron.

But to get even farther from the Castle of Lions? Everything in him rails against the idea, but he says over the paladin's comm, "Good idea, Allura. Team, move in to coordinate with Keith. Lets see if we can push them back."

It works. As soon as all five lions are within reach of the cruiser, its engines rumble to life and it starts a slow retreat, letting the drone ships slip between the cruiser and its attackers. But without a formation, the fighters are all on top of each other, clearly unused to close quarters combat the way the Paladins are. They withdraw, and Shiro yells, "Now! Form Voltron!" the very moment the opportunity arises, and they merge together mech and mind until they stand as one unit, sword drawn in one hand, shield in the other, and there's nothing like being in Voltron, where nothing can touch them and no one can beat them and they always win.

The battle cruiser is still drifting, slowly but steadily, away from the Castle of Lions as its fighters finish their formation and start to bombard them.

"Shiro, if you activate your wings," Keith starts, but as Voltron they're all so closely connected that he doesn't have to finish for Shiro to say, "Got it," and thrust his bayard into place.

Wings rip from Voltron's back, materializing from what seems like nowhere, and they soar on lethal blades through a cloud of fighters that blast to bits in their wake. The cruiser's shield goes up and that's okay, Shiro thinks, they can handle the rest of the fighters first, there's plenty of time to deal with the bigger threat, it doesn't seem at risk of going into warp drive even as it continues backing away.

They're just starting on slicing down the last of the drones when Coran's voice crackles to life: "-adins! We need help! A boarding crew-" and every one of them goes stiff and cold as static blurs the voice of the older Altean. "Communications- rcepted! Please-"

And nothing. Static crackles over the line for a moment, then even that goes silent.

Shiro, the head of Voltron in more ways than one, swings them around to look at the Castle of Lions, lets Keith and Pidge worry about keeping the fighters off their back for a moment, and sees-

A breach in the ion shield. Small, overall, but big enough for a ship to pass through.

The Castle. _Lance_.

The roar starts deep in his chest and pours out, gets picked up by his Lion as he turns back to the cruiser and in one mighty swing cleaves through the shield and any fighter ships in his path. Hunk's shoulder cannon explodes with light, and dozens of blasts find the ship's laser defenses, incapacitating it fully. No transmissions come through on their open channel, no Galran general to beg for mercy or spew threats at them, because no Galran general is onboard the goddamn cruiser, because he is  _on the fucking Castle_ instead, he has  _baited_ Shiro into following a decoy ship because of  _course_ capturing the Castle and whoever might be onboard is worth the cost of one lousy cruiser, and Shiro will raze each and every involved party to the bone when he finds them.

First he needs to destroy the ship. So he does.

All five of them are throbbing with rage and worry, frantic to get back to the Castle, screaming as one as they level their final sword swipe that will blast the cruiser into so much space debris. Before it's even done exploding, the Lions are splitting into individuals and racing.

Red, the smallest and fastest of them, is first to dock, and Keith's voice is strained with anger over the comms as he warns them, "We've been boarded. Coran locked himself in the control room, I'm trying to get to him now."

"I can override the controls once I'm there and restart the Castle's inner defenses," Allura says, her own brand of rage tinting her voice. Her Castle, her steward, her turf: she may not be an Alpha, but these are feelings Shiro can empathize with.

"Everyone, head that way and help," he orders as Black touches down, spitting him out before her feet even touch the ground. He rolls into a landing and sprints, but not towards the command deck.

It'd be the smarter direction to take, but there's an Alpha roaring in his mind _faster faster go go go_ and he cannot think straight, cannot accomplish anything before he checks on Lance. He's the leader and the pack Alpha and he is supposed to protect them, and he cannot do anything through the fog of rage that's settled on him with the uncertainty of the pack Omega's condition.

He slides into a wall at full speed, uses it to push off and round a corner, _fast fast fast it might already be too late_ , praying to whoever is listening that every Galra onboard has focused on taking control of the ship, that no one has noticed the scent blockers and followed their trial back to Lance's room, that he'll be able to pop in for reassurance and then head back to the group where he's sorely needed, if the steady stream of cursing through his helmet is any indication.

All of that goes out the window as he turns down Lance's hall at the exact moment that a yowling scream pierces the air. The nest of bedsheets that Lance had built for Shiro outside the door is wrecked, strewn all across the hall. The panel beside the door has been blastered and the door itself is open but whoever is pulling that intense, continuing scream out of Lance is already in the room.

Shiro's vision goes entirely red as he catches the door frame with his human hand and swings inwards, galra arm whitehot and blazing purple.

He has barely a moment to take in the scene: Lance, all the way in the back of his nest, sheets draped over the top that cloak him in shadow, teeth bared and eyes bright with fear and the promise of violence, hands under a pillow as though he'll weaponize it if further pressed. There are four droid sentries and one Galran general. None of them are even armed, and they knew somehow that the Blue Paladin would be home alone, that their Omega would be in heat and rendered defenseless, because the general holds only a pair of handcuffs, hands outreached and mere inches from the edge of the nest. Lance's screams are punctuated by chittering, high pitched and anxious, but all of that goes silent as his eyes shift and meet Shiro's.

Then he smiles, wide and feral and relieved.

Shiro's galran hand slices through two sentries before they even know that he's in the room. The other two whirl on him, but he goes low and halves one through the waist, raises his bayard into a shield to block the lunging grab of the other. The droid _thunks_ against the shield and is momentarily thrown off balance, but momentarily is all Shiro needs as he regains his footing and rises, hand grasping the metal throat and effortlessly ripping it out.

The general is shouting something, hands up and backing away from Shiro, away from the bed, but all he hears is Lance's quick breathing, Lance's heartbeat a fluttering staccato, anxiety that his bravado had managed to mask when staring down a threat, and Shiro _let them threaten his Omega_ , he was supposed to guard the door and he failed, utterly, at the most important task he will undertake as an Alpha, and he doesn't care what information they might learn or what they might trade for a general of this level, he only knows they  _came for Lance_ specifically and that not once in the Gladiator Pits did he enjoy what he did but, _oh_ , how pleased he'll be when this one bleeds for him.

It's his human arm he extends, because he wants to feel the life ebb out of this one, and the general starts to settle into a stance, readying to fight for his life even if it's a futile gesture, even if his face pales when Shiro bares his teeth and roars so loud it goes echoing through the halls: a challenge and a warning and a promise of a death poorly earned.

A blaster fires, somewhere from behind him. The general falls, stunned, to the ground just before Shiro's fist meets his face.

He's still roaring as he turns to assess what new threat there is, but there's just-

Lance. It's enough to cut his roar short. The rifle flashes and turns back into a bayard, which Lance drops with hands that have begun to shake. He's panting hard, eyes wide, and he says, "We need him. We need him for information."

Shiro begins growling as he approaches the bed, but not at Lance, never at Lance. His eyes skirt the rest of the room for any other threats, any source of danger, and the visor of his helmet clicks up so he can see the Blue Paladin without its dark tint.

Lance is drenched with sweat. Utterly naked, he hadn't even had time to grab his robe when the galra had forced their way in. His blue eyes are electric in his sockets, his hair stuck to his skull, his skin sickly pale under his tan. His heat scent is sour: acid rain, mold and damp, a storm that's left destruction in its wake but _Lance_ is the wake, quickly going jittery and shaking and scared and Shiro _cannot fuck this up_ if it kills him, if it leaves him in ribbons on the floor he _cannot get this wrong_ as he approaches the bed and stops just short of touching it.

Nests are important to Omega. It's safety and warmth and comfort when they are most vulnerable. A nest touched without invitation is a nest that's sullied and worthless and uninhabitable. That Lance had made him a personal nest for his door-guarding was not consent to enter his personal nest.

His fingers twitch at his side, but Shiro's eyes don't waver from Lance's. "Did they touch it?" He asks in a voice that promises murder for the galra on the floor.

Lance's eyes dart from the general to the wrecked droids to Shiro and then back again, a loop without end, his body beginning to shake harder until the Alpha in Shiro asks again in a voice that demands an answer: "Did. They. Touch it?"

It isn't fair to wield that sort of weapon against an Omega at his most hormonal, helpless to disobey an Alpha in the throes of a heat, but Lance's eyes find his and hold as he says, "No. No, you came in time."

The violence in him abates- slightly. Still, he stands preternaturally still as he probes further, "Did they touch _you_?" and he doesn't know what he'll do if the answer is yes, but he'll start with burning down the galaxy.

Lance's eyes don't stray as he says quietly but firmly, "No," and Shiro can hear his heartbeat start to slow, to ease into something less raging in the presence of his pack leader. Still, it takes him completely by surprise when Lance says, "Can I- I mean, the scent here, it's all wrong now, I need to-" and he cuts off into a low whine, and his arms extend for Shiro who starts forward with concern when those eyes goes clouded with tears, catching the Omega as he falls forward.

Then Lance is in his arms and Shiro is crawling into the nest, curling around him like an ion shield, rumbling and forcing his glands to pump out his own scent and cover up the galra, the droids, the stench of burning from his hand slicing through them. Lance presses his face into Shiro's neck and his tears there soak through the thin flight suit.

"They didn't touch you," Shiro says, "You're safe now. I won't leave you again."

The others have things under control at the command deck, the battle having turned at some point during Shiro's whiteout, so he chucks his helmet to the floor and braces the back of Lance's head with one hand, pressing his face into the scent gland there as it goes soft and reassuring, velvet and starlight and the warm darkness of lovers.

Lance's sobs quiet into keens, and then into purring as he rubs his face against the gland, stimulating it into producing more scent. It causes every muscle in his neck to go warm and aching, but Shiro would take a thousand times more if it means that Lance feels safe, here in his arms. He leans to press his own nose into the side of Lance's neck, chuffing deeply as the scent there changes. Not his normal heat scent, not fully, but not the soured mockery it had been, either.

"I'm not leaving again," he repeats, arms like iron bands as he crushes the other man to him.

What a fighter, this Omega, what a precious gem. To defend himself with teeth bared, to have the presence of mind to keep his bayard in his nest, to _wield_ it at all when his head had likely been clouded with panic and instincts to run. Shiro starts to mumble reassurances, at first nonsense and then, as his own instincts start to fade and all the _fear_ for Lance catches up, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, they knocked out Coran's communications, we didn't even know they were here, I should have never left, I'm so sorry," gripping Lance tighter as his own eyes go wet, trying not to let him see as Shiro's stoicism crumbles.

 _Failure_ his Alpha sneers, angry and disappointed now that the rage is unnecessary, _failure_ and _I told you_ and _how could you_ 's echoing through his head, and all of them right. He's meant to protect them. His team, his pack, his Omega- not _his_ anything. Not now, and probably not ever.

Lance tries to pull back and after a moment Shiro lets him, knows that he deserves whatever judgement is passed.

Ever the wildcard, Lance presses his forehead to Shiro's, eyes dry but for the tracks left down his cheeks, and his hands come up to cup Shiro's face, to stop him from looking away, thumbs wiping at his tears as the weight of his failure crushes down on him. He's mumbling, "Hey, it's okay, hey, no, it's not your fault, you came when it mattered, you saved me," but it only makes him feel worse, and this is so _stupid_ , he's supposed to be comforting Lance not the other way around, but it hits him like a blaster to the chest how close he'd come to losing the Blue Paladin. If Coran hadn't gotten through to them, if they'd come just a few moments later.

At the thought, his shoulders start to shake, the despair and the fear really setting in, the disappointment in himself a weight that can be born as much as the concern in Lance's eyes, so he shuts his and lets the weight bear down. Lance lets go of his face, gently prods him into scooting backwards so that his back is against a wall of pillows, guides him into reclining against them as Lance crawls into his lap and holds him. There's residual scent here of heat, but the scent Lance starts pumping out as he wraps his arms around Shiro's neck and guides his nose to his gland is fresh river water, hot mint tea, sunlight shining through the waves, and his voice is solid as he says, "Shiro, it's okay, you did everything exactly right, there were no other choices, we didn't know. We'll be more careful next time."

Lance is still naked, but doesn't seem to mind that every inch of him is pressed against Shiro, and when he's finally able to take a breath without shuddering, he opens his eyes and finds that Lance's color is warming and his eyes are kind and caring and utterly devoid of blame.

There are footsteps in the hall, and both of them snap to face the door. His hands are around Lance's waist and he's prepared to throw the other man bodily behind him at the slightest threat, but it's just Keith.

The Red Paladin pauses at the threshold, eyes glancing warily at the destruction around the room, then to the two figures in the nest. His mouth opens and then clicks shut as he glances towards the galra still unconscious on the floor.

"I'll get this cleaned up," he says, making his way to the general. Slight as he is, Keith barely grunts as he hauls the general over one shoulder in a fireman's carry and makes his way back out the door without glancing at them again. Muddy Alpha that he is, he's no threat to Shiro, doubly so with the brotherly bond between them, but he knows better than to push his luck with an Omega in heat. Where he goes with the general isn't in Shiro's list of concerns, and it's Coran and Pidge who come to clean away the droid debris, Pidge equal parts concern for her teammate and excitement for new parts to play with, the Altean all apologies to Lance that he hadn't been able to stop the Galra infiltration.

Lance is gracious and gentle in his acceptance of the apologies, and firm in his insistence that he's unharmed and that the blame for the intrusion lies entirely with the galra, but he doesn't move from Shiro's lap. Coran is without secondary gender and Pidge hasn't presented, so the air they leave behind when they finish is unobtrusive and unthreatening. After a few more moments, any trace of scent from the event is gone.

Lance's head is leaning into the crook of Shiro's shoulder, his arms loosely looped around Shiro's neck, Shiro holding him with one arm behind his back and one under his knees, pulled close enough that Lance's purring vibrates through his body. It's- nice. Nicer than Shiro deserves, he knows. It also can't last. Lance is between heat waves, his body had gone cold probably the moment foreign scents had invaded his space, but now that he's safe the heat will be back. And Shiro will have to go.

"I've only got a day left," Lance says softly, one hand reaching up to brush the stubble of Shiro's undercut. He shivers at the friction as Lance continues, "One day, maybe less thanks to the stress. I'd like you to- to stay."

Shiro's body involuntarily tenses, and he tucks his chin to look down at Lance's face- gone bright red with a blush as he clarifies, "Not for- not for _that_. Just to make the room feel safe. If it's not too much to ask."

It'll be hell, and they both know it. For Shiro to be in the room but not in the nest, for Lance to use toys when Shiro is _right there_ , for both of them to keep those primal and urgent instincts at bay.

 _Do it, it's what he wants, give it to him_ his Alpha whispers as the logical bit of him hisses _it isn't safe it isn't consent if it's during his heat_

"Are you sure?" He asks, because it's Lance's choice, it has to be, and Lance leans up to join their foreheads as he nods and says, "Yeah, I am."

Shiro looks into his eyes for a long time, checking for any hint of reservation, any hint of doubt, but finds none. He takes a deep breath and asks, quietly, "Will you remake that nest for me in here?"

And Lance's smile is worth whatever agony that follows.


	2. Except for this One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance gets fucked in the butt. That's pretty much all that's here, folks, just 9k words of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should mention that I've seen Shiro call Lance "kitten" as a pet name in a bunch of fics, and I highkey love it but I definitely didn't invent it and also don't know who did to give credit to. Welcome to my 9k chapter of porn. Please comment and tell me that this was not too long?? Or that I need to edit it into two chapters? Or that I'm bad at it, or good at it, or whatever!

The metal of the Med Bay table is cold, even through the seat of his flight suit. Lance welcomes it as he closes his eyes, lets it ground him. "Go ahead, Coran," he says, "Don't count down, just do it." 

Coran's chuckling as he says, "My boy, you won't even feel it, I've numbed the area sufficiently." 

Not to mention Shiro's lurking presence across the room, an unnecessary reminder that Lance's comfort and safety are paramount.  

He squeezes his eyes tighter, waiting for the pinch even he tries to relax all his muscles. "If you count down I'll tense up and it'll hurt more," he says, and Coran takes one hand in his, squeezes it reassuringly even as he continues laughing under his breath. But he doesn't want reassurance, he wants to be done. "Just do it already," he says. 

"I already did." 

His eyes pop open and, yep, Coran's head is bent, dabbing at a little welt of blood, free hand still holding Lance's, the injection gun set to the side and ready to be discarded. 

"Oh," he says, trying not to flex his triceps as Coran swipes an antiseptic wipe over the site and then begins to bind it with gauze, "But I didn't feel it." 

Coran shoots him a look that's all mirth and replies, "Quiznak, Lance, that's the point of the numbing agent! Now, keep the bandage on until night, no submerging it in water for a few days, and you should be all covered!" 

Shiro approaches, hands flexing at his sides, at which Lance has to hide a smile, but he only asks, "Will there be any lapse of coverage?"

Lance almost blushes from shame. That's something he should have thought to ask. Especially with a heat coming up, he can't really afford for his birth control to lapse. 

"No," Coran says, "Not all. The old one was still good for another few weeks, but Lance was right to not want to wait until the last moment. The residual hormones in his system will suffice while the new implant starts to kick in." 

A few days. He's not great at math, but from his figuring, that'll cover his nesting period, and he should be good for the heat. 

Shiro nods his sharp, officer nod, then smiles and claps Coran on the back. "Thanks," he says, "You really saved the day on this one. There's no one else I'd trust for this." 

Coran goes bright red, one hand twirls his mustache as the other rubs the back of his head, "Well, anything for my Paladins, of course," the older man chirps, beaming from the compliment even as he's unable to take it. 

Lance reaches out and pulls him in for a hug, quick but fierce, says his own, "Thanks, buddy," that reddens the man's face further. He stutters over their gratitude and eventually flees the room on the pretense of checking some castle equipment. 

When Coran is gone, Lance flips his arm over and bares it to Shiro, who sighs with relief and runs his human fingers lightly over the bandage, checking to be sure that it's secure without being too tight. "Thanks," the Black Paladin says, and Lance knows it isn't only for letting him relieve his Alpha instincts to double check Coran's handiwork. 

"I didn't want either of us to stress about it during my heat," Lance says, "It was easier to just do it early." 

Shiro shoots him a look that makes his bones go to jelly- how very lucky that he's still sitting- before it tempers into something gentler. "It might be sore tomorrow," he says, dropping Lance's arm and stepping in between his legs to pull him closer, "You're off training until the heat passes." 

Lance makes a noise of protest as Shiro's nose buries into his scent gland, filling the room with mint, "That seems like an abuse of privileges," he says, but Shiro huffs a laugh as he kisses over the gland, follows Lance's neck upwards. 

"You're usually so  _eager_  to abuse your privileges," he mutters, mouthing idly over the shell of Lance's ear, sending shivers that have nothing to do with the metal of the examination table down his spine.

Lance snakes his legs around Shiro's hips, pulls him flush against his chest so they're face to face, Shiro at eye level for once. "One of us," he says, placing a kiss at the corner of Shiro's jaw, "Needs to have," and he noses Shiro's chin up so he can kiss just under it, "A little of integrity," and he places a final kiss on the other side of that jaw he adores as Shiro's hands come up to cradle his face.

Their mouths finally  _finally_  meet, and it's gentle and soft and slow: the kiss of two men who have all the time in the world, even if they don't. 

Point in fact: there's knuckles rapping on the door a beat before Keith says, "Ah, guys, seriously? I get my vaccines there!" 

Shiro pulls back only slightly, sends a quiet growl over his shoulder at his brother who rolls his eyes. "Hunk said to come get you guys for dinner, so wrap it up. And I'm not talking about your-" 

  

But that  _really_  sends Shiro off, and he tugs away from Lance fully to lunge at the Red Paladin, who anticipates the bigger Alpha's response and dodges, dancing out of reach. "Better fuel up, old man," he teases before turning and sprinting out of the room. 

Despite the residual growl, Shiro's smiling, no love lost between the siblings. 

Lance's heart pangs, just for a beat, in homesickness. It's not as sharp as it was four years ago, but it hits him in moments like these where he has to remember these moments between himself and his own siblings, his old pack. 

Pack. Omegas and packs went hand in hand: a beta could live alone and happy, Alphas could move between being a pack leader and independence as needed, but Omegas? Without a pack, they leaned to anxiety and paranoia and frosts more often than not. His old pack, the only one he'd ever had before finding Blue, had been his family plus Hunk. 

Now his pack is a group of humans and aliens and one halfling that he wouldn't trade for the world, but… 

Shiro scents his shifting mood and is instantly there, hands soothing circles on his back, "Hey, it's okay, you're alright." 

Lance forced a little smile and said, "Just the hormones, I guess. I should probably eat." 

Unfair to play off of Shiro's Alpha instincts, and a knowing gleam goes through the Black Paladin's eyes, but fades just as quick. "Alright," he says, "Then let's get you some food." 

Dinner is a rowdy affair. It's the last before Lance's pre-heat starts, and they've been erratic in the past. Sometimes he would nest for days, nabbing everything not nailed down for the most comfortable, scented nest possible. Sometimes he'd nest for a few hours, desperately scrapping something together before spiraling into a heat. On Earth he could depend on two to three days before the heat started in earnest, but things were less certain in space. 

So Pidge made sure to flick goo into his face and Hunk hovered around him making sure he cleaned his plate not once but twice and Allura discussed Blue's recent moods and thoughts with him while Coran rehashed his instructions for his injection site and Matt asked for a hundredth explanation on how exactly the Altean had managed to replicate a birth control implant and it was messy and chaotic and absolutely perfect. 

When he and Shiro stand to leave, the other Paladins jeer and cheer at them, all of them shouting their goodbyes incase it's the last time they see the Blue and Black Paladins for the week. 

The walk to Shiro's room is quieter, but no less enjoyable, Shiro's arm wrapped around his waist with an easy familiarity. It stays there until they enter their room and lock the door behind them. Then he yawns and scratches at the scar over his nose, says, "I'm beat. Shower and bed?" and Lance nods, hmming in response. 

They'd moved everything unessential to Lance's old quarters last week in anticipation of the heat. All that remains is the bed, of course, their night table, an additional small dining table that's piled with rations and bottled water, and their chest of drawers. He's already amassed a pile of the others' clothing and assorted sheets and pillows at the foot of the bed, things he knows he'll need for his nest even if the placement has yet to be decided. 

Shiro hasn't moved to the adjoined bathroom yet, patiently waiting for Lance to finish chewing over whatever's bothering him. Lance moves to sit at the bed and pats the space next to him, says, "Can we talk for a minute?" 

It has not yet been proven that Shiro can teleport, but he moves so fast that Lance is pretty sure it wasn't by foot. Instantly he's there on the bed, eyes concerned and attentive, scanning for injury or discomfort. "Of course," he says, "Anything. Everything. You know I'll do whatever I can for you." 

"That's kind of what I want to talk about," Lance admits, taking one of Shiro's hands in his own, squeezing. "This will be our first heat together, and…" God, he can't even get the words out without blushing. 

Shiro's eyes run a gamut of panic and resignation and concern and fear, then shutter. He runs his free hand through his white tuft of hair, a nervous habit, and says, "If you're having second thoughts-" and Lance says, "Oh my God, no," and Shiro interrupts, "I'd let you stay here if you wanted," and Lance jerks his hand back, puts it on Shiro's shoulder and says, "That's  _absolutely_  not what I meant," as Shiro looks away and says, "I wouldn't be upset with you," and Lance stands up and throws his hands in the air and shouts, "I want you to bond-bite me!" 

Crickets. 

If they weren't in deep space with absolutely no creatures but the mice on board, Lance would swear that he could hear crickets chirping in the silence of the room. 

Shiro looks nothing short of shell-shocked. "Bond you?" He asks, voice wavering, and Lance is suddenly very afraid that he's asking for too much. 

Then Shiro's eyes water and he reaches for his Omega, wrapping his arms around his waist and burying his face in his stomach. " _I'm_  supposed to ask  _you_ ," he says after a long moment of deep breathing as Lance runs his fingers through his favorite black-and-white hair, down his favorite muscled back, "I would  _never_  pressure- I mean, are you  _sure_?" 

And that's exactly why Lance wants it. Everything about their relationship has been left in his hands, Shiro would never be the type Alpha to ask for this, to make Lance feel cornered into accepting it. He's never been so sure of anything in his life. 

"Yeah," he breathes, and Shiro looks up at him, his sudden burst of waterworks under control, "I just, I wanted to talk about it while I'm still clearheaded. I didn't want to wait and have you think it's just the heat talking." 

He leans against Shiro and Shiro leans backwards, making room for Lance to crawl on top of and straddle his lap, hands coming up to cup Shiro's face and smooth his fingers along that lovely scar, down the sides of the perfectly shaped jaw, pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

"I love you," he murmurs, "I want to bond with you. Just you. Forever." 

He punctuates every word with a kiss as Shiro's eyes go watery again. Not much gets his Alpha so emotional, and it hurts his heart to be the cause of it, but this? The most important decision of his Omega life? This is worth the tears. 

"I would be honored," Shiro rumbles, voice coming from deep in his chest as his hands settle on Lance's hips, guiding him fully into his lap, "To be your mate. To be bonded to you. If you'll have me." 

This Alpha. This protective, nurturing, kind-hearted, precious gem of an Alpha. Lance would raze worlds for him, would fight through legions of galra, would drown any and everything to stay by his side. "You'll be happy to know," he says, grin splitting his face, "That I already talked to Blue and Black  _and_  Red about it, and they're all in agreement on the subject. We're just waiting on you." 

It pulls the peal of laughter he'd been digging for, and Shiro stands, tears streaming as he peppers little happy kisses all over Lance's face, his neck, rubbing his face into the scent glands at either side until it tickles and Lance is crying and laughing too, shoving Shiro's face away, both of them beaming like idiots. 

"Yes, yes, of course,  _quiznak_  you scared me, of course I'll bond with you, I'm so- God, Lance, I'm the luckiest man in the universe," Shiro chatters, walking to set Lance onto the bathroom counter. His eyes dart to the shower, but it seems that he can't quite bring himself to actually let go of his  _mate_ , to actually go start the water, his hands running all over Lance's face and arms and chest like it's the first time he's touched them. Lance butts their foreheads together briefly, says, "One of us went to training today and has it again tomorrow. Go shower, you smelly Alpha." 

Even the playful insult can't wipe the smile off Shiro's face, but he does as asked. Once the bigger male is actually in the shower, Lance starts his own nightly regiment, changing into one of Shiro's shirts and pair of sweatpants, keeping up a steady stream of chatter about his day, and Shiro talks about their training session from that morning and what he has planned for the rest of the team for tomorrow, and reminds Lance that he has to shower when he wakes up, not bathe, so that his arm isn't submerged- to which Lance replies that, between him and Coran, he'll probably never take a bath or swim again- and it isn't until much later when they're lying in bed together on the cusp of sleep that he noses the gland in Shiro's neck and breathes his favorite scent deep and says, "Me too. I'm so lucky to have you. You make me so happy, Shiro." 

Shiro holds him tighter and says, "Hey, I'm done crying for the night. Try again tomorrow," but Lance can hear his smile. He tucks himself against his mate's side and goes to sleep. 

* * *

 

 

In the morning, he wakes to an empty bed. Shiro, after almost a year of sharing his room, has become adept at rising without waking Lance unless he means to. 

Which isn't often. Usually they get up and go to training together. It's a rare luxury to be able to stretch his limbs and cover the expanse of their large bed without accidentally prodding anyone's ribs. So he does, yawning for good measure, blinking to clear the haze from his head. 

But it doesn't clear. If anything, it gets more intense, and he's struck by the sudden and very insistent urge to smell Pidge's iron-and-dirt scent  _right now_. He rolls to the end of the bed and thrusts a hand into his assorted pile, digging until he comes up with a familiar green and white shirt. He presses his face to it and breathes in, deep, then rolls back to the top of the bed and sets it between his and Shiro's pillows, where he can press his face into it whenever he wants. But as he lays his head back down he realizes that that's not  _quite_  right, because Pidge is always hanging around Matt and there's a little of Matt's scent in the shirt, which is great except that it's a little stale and it bugs him that he can smell Pidge so vividly and then just this little whiff of Matt that's sort of  _wrong_ , so he goes back down to his pile and digs around for Matt's cloak that he's sure he's nabbed, and hauls it up the head of the bed as well. 

Except now there's not enough room for Pidge's shirt  _and_ Matt's cloak between the pillows, so he either has to choose which one stays- which, obviously, is not even an option- or he has to strip the bed completely and remake it from scratch with these new additions incorporated in- which,  _duh_. 

And it's not until Shiro comes in, sweaty and bare chested from training, that Lance realizes mid-warning snarl that he's gone into his preheat. Alphas are not allowed to see or touch or even be near a nest before it's complete. Shiro goes very still in the doorway, centuries of primal instincts coming to the surface as he very carefully does not let his eyes move from Lance's, and he says, "Lance. Kitten, I'm going to your old room, if you need me. Is there anything I can get for you right now?" 

He replies with a low, rumbling growl that lights something hot and longing in Shiro's eyes, an answer to his clear challenge, but the Alpha purposefully and slowly backs out into the hallways, one arm pressed against the frame to keep the door from closing as he says, "If you need anything, anything at all, I'll be in your old room. Do you understand?" 

Lance dips his chin, once, eyes still narrowed as he waits for Shiro to take even a glance at his nest, for the Alpha to lapse for even a moment. 

But he doesn't. He lets his arm drop and his eyes are still holding Lance's as the door shuts between them. 

He continues building.

It's a trial-and-error sort of thing:   
He strips the bed to the bare mattress and starts to build on top of it, but the surface of the mattress is too slippery and nothing stays in place. So he has to strip it again and fit it with an extra pair of sheets that he and Shiro keep in case theirs get too messy, and then he starts to form a loose ring of assorted clothes and cloaks and pants and socks, but he realizes that there's no  _cushion_  to the thing, it's just him lying in his bed surrounded by  _stuff_. So he strips the bed again just for good measure, and then remakes it, and then he wanders out of the room and to the lounge where Hunk and Pidge and Matt are all sitting silently on the floor working on some robot design, and none of them even  _notice_ , they don't even really seem to be _aware_ as Lance steals the couch cushions off the sofas  _right in front of them_ , or when he comes back a few minutes later for the throw pillows- just because he can. He uses them to build a ring on the bed: low and thin at the foot, thicker and higher at the head; all the nooks and crannies stuffed with the scents of his pack. Then he takes the comforter from Hunk's bed and layers it with the sheets from Allura's until the center of the ring is soft and warm and padded. 

As the  _piece de resistance_ , he takes his and Shiro's own comforter and drapes it over the highest point of the ring, so that when he finally settles into his nest he can hide in the very back of it, hidden and warm and safe in the shadows and even if someone  _were_ to break in, even if someone  _were_ to come invade his space and his heat and his nest, they'd have to  _know_  that he's in it because they wouldn't be able to tell by sight and they wouldn't be able to discern his scent from amongst the pack's,  _and_ they'd have to rip apart the nest, and at the thought Lance frowns and pads across the room to his bayard and comes back to the very deepest corner where it's safest and tucks it under the pillow his head will rest on, which is actually Shiro's pillow, so that even in his sleep he'll be safe. 

Then he basks in his work, because he's earned it. 

There's no way for him to track time in the dim lighting of the room. His body buzzes pleasantly and the haze in his head doesn't bother him anymore, if anything it's like a comfort blanket- and he's not in a shortage of those. 

At some point he realizes that he's hungry, so he drags himself from the comfort and warmth and inspects his rations that are meant to last, at worst, for two people for 14 days. He could eat from these, he knows, because they're his. But it's been a long time, he realizes with an alarmed jolt, since someone  _touched_  him. His skin feels itchy, too tight around his frame, so he decides to go find  _any_ one, and maybe some food while he's at it. 

In the lounge room, there are plenty of  _any_ one's to choose from. There's a movie on, but it pauses instantly as he creeps into the room: there's no one as stealthy as a sharpshooter, but he is, admittedly, perhaps not at his best. The movie pauses and there's a beat of many pairs of eyes on him as his scan faces that are  _almost_ _almost_ _almost_  familiar, until a low and reedy yowl crawls out of his stomach. 

The Yellow Paladin is there before his mouth is even fully opened, picking him up bodily and carrying him to the couch, letting Lance drape all over his legs and lap, saying  _something_ , and then there are hands in his hair playing gently with the curls there and another hand is rubbing his back as it arches, and  _yes_ , there's food coming too. He purrs and feels the glands in his neck open: mint and sunshine and the toe-curling relaxation of  _pack_. 

"Here ya go, bud," Hunk says encouragingly, pressing a bowl into Lance's hands, "Sit up and eat this for me, won't ya?" 

Of course he will. The food goo isn't as palatable, maybe, as some of Hunk's other meals but it at least is easy to eat and forgiving when his mind wanders mid-bite. 

"Should we get Shiro?" Keith asks, voice near to the door as if he's on his way to do just that, and Lance growls- a low and sharp and feral thing. It will be his only warning. 

"I think we should let Lance get him," Matt says as one hand strokes down Lance's back, a gesture meant to soothe that does exactly that, "When he's ready." 

Lance's eyes rivet on Keith, ready to leap if he so much as twitches towards the door, but the Red Paladin takes the suggestion without complaint for once, and flops back into his seat. 

Lance resumes cuddling with anyone that will touch him. He makes sure to do a full rotation of the room, including Allura and Coran, who smell a little odd without secondary gender but are otherwise delightfully tolerant of his affections. Keith gets a cursory once-over so that his flame-and-sand scent intertwines with mint, but no more. Lance won't stoop so low as to try to bait an Alpha, even if it's not in his nature to respond. Then he returns to Hunk's lap, who's the most familiar of the bunch and knows exactly where Lance likes to be petted. 

He eats another serving of goo. He lounges in laps. He falls asleep. When he wakes, Hunk is sitting in precisely the same spot, not having dared to move him and risk him waking in a panic. 

A good friend. His best friend. He drapes a blanket over the larger man's form and silently creeps from the room. 

His blood is warming, and he can feel his pulse like a drum beat in his head: slow and steady now, but expectant.  _Come and get me_  something whispers  _come and take me, if you can_ , and he will, if he finds it. Around the corner there's more hallway, more dim blue-lights, a Castle night cycle, but something in the pit of his stomach is uncurling, is waking up, is purring  _you know what you are you know what you want_ , and he blinks as he stands in front of his own bedroom door, his nest a tangible presence on the other side, and something deep inside him is stirring and demands  _so claim it._  

His mouth opens, and his voice is barely a ghost in the quiet buzzing of the halls as he whispers, " _Shiro._ " 

It has not yet been proven that he can teleport, but Shiro is there instantly, materializing from nothing, from the shadows, and Lance isn't sure it's not his gift from the Black Lion as Shiro crowds into Lance's space, an arm on either side of Lance's head, pressing his chest to Lance's until both of them have their full weight against the door, and leans down to pant against his mouth: "Yes?" 

A whine. He's almost beyond words, and something in him says that's okay, but there's another part of him that says  _you_ have _to do this right_ so his hand reaches out to press his hand to the scanner, and he does not budge as it opens behind him, all of his weight rocked back onto his heals. Shiro's hands stay frozen, suspended in the air on either side of Lance's head and his eyes do not waver or stray. His eyes are gray- not blue, not black- and that's where Shiro's morality lays: in the inbetween, where sometimes the right things are done even when it's not in his own best interest. 

Lance takes a slow, measured step back. Shiro hardly seems to breathe. He could be made of stone, or better yet metal. His eyes don't flicker as Lance's head turns just slightly, lets his mouth brush against the tech arm that does not shake beneath his lips, that would not hesitate to catch him and hold him or to burn through his enemies, because Shiro may not always do what's in his own best interest but he has  _always_  done what's best for Lance. 

So his blue eyes stay locked to those gray, which do not flicker or even heat, as he lets his tongue slip out to taste the cold bite of the metal and he takes another very slow, measured step back. 

"I made a nest for you," and he doesn't know where this voice comes from, this husky purr that's all smoke and thunderstorm. 

Shiro swallows. The first sign of the resolve it's taking to stay rooted in place. "You made a nest for  _you_ ," he corrects, because Lance has not yet invited him into it. 

A frown tugs at his lips and he takes another step back, now quite out of reach and able to appreciate fully how Shiro's posture doesn't lag, how his shoulders aren't even flexed to keep himself in place, and he corrects, "I made a nest for  _us._ " 

Shiro is definitely not breathing, so Lance decides to take it easy on him, decides to be merciful to this male, this Alpha, this man that would do anything for him. "Would you like to see it?" 

There: a flicker of hesitation. Of worry. Shiro has to take a deep breath in and out before he can respond, "If that's okay." 

Lance wonders what Shiro did with his day, while he was building a nest and cuddling with their pack. He wonders if Shiro was prowling Lance's old room, rooting through three years of stuff and organizing and trying to keep from barging in to check on his Omega and, undoubtedly, spiraling into a web of concern. He wonders what Shiro sees in him, even as the list of compliments Shiro regularly bestows on him rolls through his head. He wonders how a heat must seem to an Alpha, if he seems as unlike himself as he feels, and if Shiro sees the Lance underneath. 

He wonders a lot of things, but Lance makes one shoulder shrug, makes his posture so very, very casual as he says, "I guess. You have to tell me if you don't like it, though. So I can try again." 

There can be no do-over, and they both know it. This is a test between his Omega and Shiro's Alpha, to see if they're as compatible as the people they inhabit. Either Shiro will love it or he won't. 

A deep breath out as his arms lower to his sides. That white tuft of hair is starting to stick with sweat as he says, "Of course. Of course I will," and they both know it's a reassurance, not an agreement. 

Lance steps to the side and Shiro steps past. The door slides shuts and locks automatically. With any luck, it won't open again this week. 

But Lance has eyes only for Shiro, and sheds his clothes as he prowls- purposefully out of the Alpha's reach- into his nest. In the back where it's dark even by the standards of the darkened room, yet Shiro's eyes find his without hassle or hesitation. He waits. He is not a creature built for patience, but in this matter it is paramount. 

A beat. Shiro's gray eyes trail the outer rim of the nest. He prowls around it to one side, out of Lance's sight. When he returns, it's sans shirt. 

There's a heat in his gut and it's going to consume him. 

There's a light sheen of sweat over Shiro's chest, just enough to glint in the light as he prowls to the other side of the nest, and his eyes are blown wide and focused, taking in every detail, completely overrun by instinct. He disappears from view, just for a moment, but it's  _worth_  it because when he strides back the foot of the bed he's  _naked_  and-quiznak, Lance has seen Shiro naked before, they've done much more in the past year than stare at each other from opposite ends of the bed- but there's something about this moment, this preface to the line they're planning to cross, and Lance's lungs are caught in the same stuttering hiccup as his heartbeat as Shiro climbs into the nest. 

He isn't a creature built for patience, but this is not a process that can be rushed. Shiro runs his human hand over the sheets that form the base, pushing and prodding, then lets it trail up the incline Lance built of couch cushions. As he starts to crawl deeper into the nest, under the canopy, the scent he's producing gets thicker and stronger: metal and musk and twilight, the space between stars, but Lance does  _not_  move to revolve around him, the sun to Shiro's blackhole. He stays exactly where he is and is  _patient_ , damnit. 

Shiro shoulders past Lance, inspecting the back of the nest; piled high to cushion against the Castle wall. His hand runs carefully over it, checking stability, and his eyes rove over every stray inch. They finally,  _finally_  meet Lance's, and he holds his gaze there as his hand slips under Lance's pillow without even having to look and draws his bayard. 

 _Oh_ _fuck_  is his first thought. The second doesn't come, his entire body locks into place. Alphas are meant to protect, to provide, and Lance has brought this weapon into his nest, into his den of safety and comfort, and how must that look to Shiro? Like Lance doesn't think he can be counted on? As if Lance's trust in him has wavered? It was so stupid, so ridiculous to even bring it, but he'd been blinded by  _need_  and by what his instincts demanded and now- 

Now Shiro is putting it back. Shiro is creeping closer, on all fours like the animals they once were many generations ago, and Shiro is bringing his hands up to cup Lance's face as he says, "It is absolutely perfect. I wouldn't change a thing." 

The smoke and thunder goes all out of him in one breath. He pitches forward, arms around Shiro's shoulders, face in Shiro's chest, a shudder wracking through him. Shiro is all concern, all the time, curled around his prone form like an ion shield, murmuring, "It's perfect, I love it, you did great, you're fantastic, I love you so much." 

And Lance takes this moment of clarity, this moment of sureness, and chokes out, "Do you really  _want_ this?" 

Shiro pulls back to see his face, thumbing the dips in his collarbone, grazing the glands in his neck, and they both he's not talking about the nest when he continues, "I'm  _sad_  sometimes. Homesick. Sometimes I focus so hard on making Voltron into this fun  _show_  that I flop our missions. Do you really  _want_  this?" 

A year. They've been together for a year, but this is a line they can't uncross and he has to be  _sure_  that Shiro understands. 

"I have nightmares," Shiro says, nuzzling closer, "I did things in the Gladiator Pits that I still can't talk about. There are things that the galra did to me," and there's a pulse of purple light as the metal arm pulses, "That will stay with me forever. Are  _you_  sure that you want this?" 

Stupid. It's so stupid, because of course he does. Shiro is so much more than what he sees in himself, but if Lance tells him that he won't believe it, so instead he shoves into the bigger Paladin, knocking him on his back. 

A belly-up Alpha isn't a challenge to wrestle, but Shiro puts up a decent fight, tussling back, growling playfully and it's a both a miracle and a testament to Lance's nesting skills that they don't topple the whole construct. When Shiro finally manages to pin him, laughing and breathless, Lance stretches from head to toe because he knows that Shiro loves every long, lean line of him, and he closes his eyes and says, "I've got another day, I think, of nesting." 

Shiro settles down for the night, half on top of him, not a crushing weight but a protective one, and hmm's in response. 

Lance pokes him in the ribs sharply and grumbles, "Next time I'm tying the galra hand behind your back." 

He can feel Shiro's laughter rumble through his chest, and the Black Paladin strokes the mentioned hand through Lance's hair, scritching softly at the scalp, and says, "Get some sleep. You'll need it." 

So he does. 

* * *

 

 

He does not have a day left. 

He wakes all at once, eyes blurred by neither sleep nor haze, hyperaware of the sheets against his bare skin. Shiro's rolled away at some point in the night, probably when Lance became drenched with sweat. He blinks at the hulking form of his Alpha once, twice, considering his options. There's slick between his legs already and the aroma starts to permeate the air: orange and sugar and a life spent basking in the sun, playing off of the lightning and storm pumping from his glands, intertwining and merging into something that makes his head spin. 

He sits up, itchy in his very bones, cock hard against his stomach, fingers trailing in the slick that's dripping down his thighs. 

 _A_ _lpha_ _alpha_ _alpha_  something chants, his eyes boring into Shiro, for once deep in slumber instead of twitching with nightmares. 

 _Let him rest_  something else purrs,  _you can handle this yourself_  and of course he can, he always has in the past, and his fingers are already dripping when he spreads his legs and reaches between them, still staring at Shiro as his index circles the pucker of his ass, his other hand stroking up the length of his cock. 

He's able to stop his moan as that first finger slips in, no resistance, barely any friction, and those are the things he  _craves_  so he's less careful with finger number two, chokes on the noise it pulls from him. 

There's a blur of motion and in the space between breaths he's on his back, teeth bared at his neck, a hand on either wrist, a growl that's anything but playful in his ear, " _Mine_." 

His head tips, baring his throat, body lax and he whimpers some combination of _Help_ and  _Shiro_ and _please_ , but Shiro's eyes are blown, pupils dilated fully as he bows his back to hold Lance's body down, letting his full weight anchor them. 

" _Mine_ ," Shiro growls, grinding his hips into Lance's, pulling a new chorus of whines and moans. When their mouths meet it's cataclysmic: teeth and tongue and true, delving and declaration. Shiro rises just slightly, gives Lance just enough room to roll onto his stomach before pining his wrists above his head with one hand. The other goes exactly where Lance wants it. 

It’s the human hand, and the fingers are warm as they slide through slick, collecting a bit for lube before pressing with three fingers directly into his ass. No mercy, no quarter, exactly what he wants. He grinds his hips down  _more_ _more_ _more_  and tips his head back to loose a whine into the room- no pillow biting, no muffling, he wants Shiro to  _know_ , wants the man at his back to unravel him completely.  

"So tight," Shiro mutters to himself as much as anyone, pumping those clever fingers in a steady rhythm, "You're so  _tight_ , Lance," and the Blue Paladin squirms and begs a steady chant of  _Shiro_ _please_ 's until he feels the fingers recede and something considerably more exciting press again his entrance. 

He is going to crawl out of his skin. Shiro  _presses_  so that it's just this side of underwhelming, exactly not-enough, and Lance is scrabbling against the bed, hands warring against the indominatable grip of a metal arm. Increasingly frantic _please please please, Alpha, Shiro, help me_  but Shiro lets him ly there in hysterical begging until he says the magic words:  _mate, my mate, I love you_ and then Shiro starts to slide in and in and  _in_ , his hipbones flat again Lance's ass. Shiro growls  _yes_ _yes_ _yes_  but stills, letting Lance breathe through the very welcome intrusion, _yes_ _yes_ _yes,_ _my mate, oh fuck Lance_  

He releases Lance's hands in favor of framing those slim hips, holding him in place- and Lance reaches back, hooks an arm around Shiro's neck to haul him closer, arching his back and pressing his neck to Shiro's face, yowling with  _need_  and grinding so that Shiro gets  _deeper_ , fills him completely, and there is not a fucking thing in his head besides Shiro's hot panting on his scent gland, the exact shape of the head of Shiro's cock as it spears into him, the base already half inflated with a knot  and stretching him even further, both of them dripping with sweat and slick and he breathes  _go, go,_ _gogogogo_ _do it please_  and Shiro-  

Bites down on his scent gland, puncturing the skin with canines that are sharp and sure, and Lance's vision goes blinding white as Shiro starts to pound into him, setting a pace with all the mercy that he'd show a Robo Beast.  Lance is certain that he's screaming, can feel his voice hard at work, but doesn't hear anything but Shiro's ragged pants, the sounds of Shiro's skin on his, throwing all of his concentration into matching Shiro thrust for thrust, his entire existence centered on the rumble in Shiro's throat that grows as his teeth sink just that much deeper. It will scar and it will stay forever: his Alpha, his pack leader, his mate his mate his mate 

And that's what he screams as he cums, rhythm failing utterly, spasming and completely out of control. 

Shiro is only a beat behind, one final thrust that strikes true, and then there's  _heat_  and the twitching of a cock buried deep as his mate explodes inside of him. He has exactly one moment to decide whether or not he wants the knot, and his eager thrust backwards, working the base of it into himself, draws a roar that shakes the walls out of Shiro. Blood drips freely down his neck as Shiro releases his bite in favor of bracing his hands on Lance's shoulders and grinding deeper deeper deeper as his knot travels up from the base, getting larger every second until the head is swelling: there's limited range of motion, but Shiro puts every inch of it to use; shallow thrusts back and forth that scrape over Lance's prostrate and force another burst of cum from his still-hard cock. 

Nothing gets past the Black Paladin, he grunts as the aftershocks quake through Lance and reaches with one hand to stroke his mate's shaft, slick with his own cum. His broad palm flattens over the head and jerks down with a brutal grip: tight and hard and fast fast fast, until Lance is cumming a third time, his hands fisting into the sheets beneath him, openly wailing at the delicious overstimulation, and if this is how he dies then he has absolutely no complaints, but it better not be because  _holy fuck_. 

His scream dies on that final orgasm- mostly because he's out of air to scream with. He lets his head fall, presses his face into the sheets and just tries to catch his breath. Shiro collapses on top of him, sending his knot prodding deeper, and that sets Lance's hips to a gentle, steady roll, his cock limp but stirring, and- 

"Breathe," Shiro orders, metal hand forcing his pelvis harder into the mattress, cutting off his advances before they really get started. "Are you- fuck, kitten, are you okay?" 

He probably looks like a mess. He knows his hair is basically on end, and he's bleeding freely from the bond bite in his neck, and his voice is hoarse even to his own ears. He's never felt better. 

"Yeah- yeah, I'm fine," he rasps, snaking his arms back around Shiro's neck and pulling him closer. He twists his head so they can kiss, and it's-  _fuck,_ it's good, he can taste his own blood on Shiro's mouth, his tongue flicking over those canine teeth, sucking on Shiro's tongue the way he wants to suck on Shiro's- 

" _Breathe_ ," Shiro orders, pulling away with bared teeth, eyes dark, equal parts arousal and concern. 

He hadn't even noticed his breathing going all quick and raspy, so desperate to get his Alpha pounding into him again. He wiggles his hips a bit, just to feel the satisfying friction of the knot inside of him, and takes- as ordered by the only Alpha in the known universe that would _stop_ his Omega from fucking him- several deep breaths until his panting evens out. 

Shiro settles on top of him, an anchor, an island, his  _mate_ , and holy fuck Shiro bit him, they're officially a mated pair; bigger, more primal than marriage, the most important decision of his Omega life, and suddenly he's crying and whimpering and Shiro is rolling them onto their sides, tangling their legs and holding him close. 

The knot isn't going to go down for another few minutes, so he can't turn around to be sure if Shiro starts crying too or if his voice cracks for totally separate reasons, but Shiro mutters, "Mate, my  _mate_ ," over and over as he licks the bite mark clean, plants soothing kisses on the reddened gland, even as the scent leaking from it starts to change; notes of Shiro's scent peeking into the background, like an aftertaste, thunder and metal, storm and twilight, and, nope, those are definitely tears as Shiro kisses up the side of his face, metal hand bracing Lance against him hard as the other smooths over the panes of Lance's chest, his face, brushes his hair out of his eyes and clutching tight around his shoulders. 

A moment between waves. His heat is satisfied with the knot, lets him have this tender moment with the love of his life. 

"I love you," and his voice is  _wrecked_ , more a croak than a whisper, but Shiro is trembling against him, and Lance can feel his mate's lips against his hair when he whispers back, "I love you too, so much Lance," and Lance still doesn't really get it but decides not to question whoever sent this incredible man to him, whatever act of fate or the universe that deigned to let him have this. 

 

The knot in his ass is starting to go down. When he wiggles his hips there's just a bit more room, a jot less friction, and he knows exactly what he wants and gives Shiro exactly no warning, just lays there and lets the knot deflate and lets his mate work himself back up: his gentle kisses eventually turn bruising, he loosens his hold on Lance's hips in a clear request that he continue to roll them, he starts to growl low in his throat when he realizes that he's able to withdraw his cock, moves as though to get back on top of his Omega- 

And promptly finds himself flipped. 

A belly-up Alpha isn't much of a challenge, but Shiro isn't fighting back as Lance rises above him, a knee to either side of his body, slick and cum leaking from his ass. He tries to imagine himself through Shiro's eyes and only sees a mess of tan skin and blue eyes and wild hair, but Shiro looks at him in awe, Shiro stares at him like he's a god, Shiro sees the Lance under the Omega, the Lance under all the bravado and the try-hard and the Blue Paladin, and Shiro's eyes go dark and soft with love and lust. 

Shiro's knot may have gone down but he's ever the good Garrison soldier, his cock still stands at attention. Lance keeps eye contact as he places a hand on each of Shiro's knees, leans so his back is fully arched as he slow slow slowly lowers himself on to that gorgeous cock. He allows just the head, popping it in and out so he can feel the ridge of it scrape against his prostrate, moaning and letting his eyes go heavy-lidded. Shiro watches, face going tight with hunger, but he checks himself from interrupting Lance's fun. As a reward, Lance sinks further, just about halfway down the length of Shiro's shaft before he pulls back up and off completely, clenching on the last bit before he slides back down. 

He's teasing himself and enjoying it. His slick starts to dribble down his thighs, pooling on Shiro's belly and dampening the sheets beneath them, but the Alpha doesn't seem to mind. His eyes, when they do finally break contact, trail down Lance's chest and the slopes of his abdomen and past his bobbing cock to the point where they join. Lance watches him watch  _them_  and on the next downstroke goes all the way, seating himself on Shiro's cock, one hand reaching for Shiro's and guiding it to his chest before dropping back down to support himself on Shiro's knees. Shiro takes the hint immediately, begins to tweak and tug at Lance's nipples until they're hard and darkened, scratches his nails down Lance's chest and groans deep and long. He can't thrust up into Lance the way Lance knows he wants to, because he'd risk upsetting the careful balance his Omega has with his hands on his knees. But he knows exactly what he's doing when he brings the cool metal of his tech arm up to press flat again Lance's chest, chilling the sweat there in contrast to the heat of the rest of him, lets it slide down and around to the small of his back, braces him as his human hand slides down to Lance's cock. 

He catches Lance on the upstroke, matching the movement so that Lance cries out and the twinned sensation. His palm smooths down at the same moment that Lance sinks, matches the rhythm Lance sets, and Lance has no idea how because he quickly loses the concept of pace as the heat wave rolls into him in full and he knows only that he needs to feel his mate spurting into him  _right now_. 

He leans forward and Shiro leans up so Lance-without breaking contact- can wrap his legs around Shiro's waist. It gives Shiro the leverage he needs to thrust, to bounce Lance on his cock while Lance grinds down. 

"I wanna-" Lance rasps, almost unintelligible with Shiro's ear between his teeth, "I wanna bite- wanna  _bond_  you too." 

Shiro cums from the words alone, presses his forehead to Lance's and gasps, "Oh fuck, Lance, my  _rut_ ,  _fuck_ , kitten," and Lance trills a high chittering excited noise, endlessly pleased as he hooks his arms through Shiro's and uses the other man's weight as a lever to fuck himself down even harder. 

Shiro needs no encouragement, frantic in his bucking, hand back on Lance's cock stroking him until the Omega is keening as he cums. Then he _pounces_ , gets Lance on his back and Shiro's kissing him, still pounding into his mate as he pants between kisses _yes yes yes of course_  and Lance isn't sure if he's cumming again or if he's euphoric from just the prospect, but then a spurt of cum splashes against Shiro's chest and answers definitively. 

It doesn't abate the Alpha. He's been tipped into a full rut, a week of nonstop fucking that Shiro has previously has shortened with suppressant injections but  _this_ time could not have been planned to be so perfect.  

Lance's legs are still wrapped around Shiro's waist, but- without pausing between thrusts- the Alpha takes an ankle per hand and growls until Lance loosens them so he can throw them over his shoulders, changing the angle of his cock as it batters into Lance's ass and setting the Omega wailing again. 

"Fuck, Shiro, come  _here_ ," he pleads, and Shiro does, bending Lance nearly double, his knees near his ears as Shiro meets him for a kiss. Lance breaks it when he feels Shiro's knot starting up again, says, "Give it  _to me_ ," and he's an Omega with a dick in his ass and a still-bleeding bite mark on his neck, he's not at his most threatening, but Shiro knows exactly what he means and bares his neck.

No one else will ever see this, Lance thinks as his mouth meets the crook of Shiro's shoulder. No one has seen Shiro's bared throat in countless years, the very act abhorrent to Alphas, submission a foreign and dangerous thing to a pack leader. Shiro would never let anyone at this most vital piece of himself, would never allow anyone so close to his weak point. Only for Lance, only for his mate... 

Lance mouths at the scent gland in Shiro's neck, the opposite side of his bite mark so that they'll be a matched pair, but waits until Shiro's knot is fully inflated, until the Alpha is cumming in thick spurts inside of him, and then he bites down with teeth that are resolute and relentless, Shiro's blood like hot iron, the gland spasming in his mouth as Shiro's musk and twilight meets his own mint and rain and _merges_ , changes until _their_ scent is the bittersweet of grapefruit, the herbal menthol of sage, the scent of tatami floors and auga de violetas, a blend of both of their histories that will carry them into the future, and Shiro's roar is as they cum a final time together is as endless and eternal as the stars. 

Lance doesn't black out, per say, but he does go float on an astral plane somewhere for a few minutes. When he becomes aware of his body again, and it's been a considerable amount of time because Shiro's knot is gone, he rolls away from the Alpha to get out of the puddle of slick they're lying in. 

Shiro grumbles, "Get back here," slings his arm over his eyes and gives absolutely no indication that he's bothered by the circle of damp. 

Lance grins his best smirk, the one he knows Shiro can  _hear_ , and says, "It's still day one. Are you already tired out?" 

There's blood on the side of Shiro's neck facing him. He'll need to lick it clean to be sure the scar settles deeply. Shiro peeks out from beneath his arm and says, "You're in for a week of rutting, you know. You better catch your breath while you have the chance." But he does roll so that he's closer to Lance, arms wrapping around his mate and nuzzling close. 

"I love you," Shiro whispers as Lance sets his tongue to work on his bond bite, cleaning it and the blood thats dripped down the side of Shiro's neck, "You didn't have to- I'd have settled just for you to be marked." 

"I know," Lance says, "I have you completely at my whim. I have since the first time I sucked your-" and Shiro growls to cut him off, his cock stirring in interest. He looks up to lock eyes, blue to gray, and he says, "I claim you, Takashi Shirogane. With all your gorgeous scars and your cool arm and especially all of your problems and your successes. I claim every inch of you," and he grins wide, one hand smearing the sticky mess on Shiro's chest, "Including all the bits I came on." 

Shiro growls again and lifts them out of the nest, out of the bed, carries Lance wrapped around his waist with one hand and snatches two bottles of water from the rations pile as they pass on their was to bathroom. 

"I claim you too," he says when he set Lance down on the counter, twisting the knobs in the shower to set the water as hot as they can stand, "I claim you, Lance McClain, and all of your homesickness and your double-lion quintessence and especially all of your problems and your successes." He crowds between Lance's legs once the water is ready, says against Lance's mouth, "Including the bits of you I cum in." 

Lance is physically incapable of standing, legs gone to jelly. How very lucky that he has a big strong Alpha to carry him into the shower, to set him on the floor, on his knees. Shiro taps his cock against Lance's kiss-swollen lips, leans against the wall, and says, "This bit, I'm claiming  _right now._ " 

This male. This Alpha, this pack leader, this _mate_ of his. Maybe he'll never feel worthy of Shiro, and maybe Shiro will never feel worthy of him. Maybe they'll both trip over themselves and each other for forever, an endless cycle of over-giving and only sometimes taking that leaves them both exactly right. Maybe they'll die in the space war they didn't ask to be part of but that brought them together. Maybe they'll win and go home to Earth to grow saggy and old together. 

Lance isn't known for planning ahead, but Shiro sees beneath the hotheaded sharpshooter, sees the calculation in his eyes as he takes Shiro's cock into his mouth in a display that _could_ be obedience but _is_ dominance. 

And he knows that it doesn't matter what happens at the end of this heat, because he's going to spend every moment of it with this beautiful, strong, worrywart of an Alpha that loves him. 

And he does. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> love you guys <3

**Author's Note:**

> next day edit: I went back and fixed the wonky spacing. Thought about doing it when I posted the first chapter, but honestly I was kind of sick of looking at it! Response to this has been amazing, way beyond my expectations, and I'm so happy that people are enjoying it! I decided to break it into 2 chapters because this one was already over 6k words, and the next is gonna be p. lengthy as well. It's also gonna be explicit! Like, very sexually explicit. The whole work is tagged for it, but if it's not your thing the next chapter is really!! not for you!! Anyways, I'll have it up probably the night of 1/23.


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